A Cinderella Story
by SSAEmilyHotchner
Summary: Oneshot. It started out with three simple words: "It's a date." What ensued was more complex yet so much more blissful than either of them could have ever imagined. Post-ep for 7x23 and 7x24, "Hit" and "Run." Written for shellrobo23.


**Author's Note: I wasn't sure I would ever get around to writing this. I'd had the idea for a while, but I had just resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't write it - there were too many emotions at stake, and I was trying to move on, you know? But then I asked shellrobo23 (reviewer #910 for Kiss the Cook) what her choice of a prompt was, and she asked for a story about Hotch and Emily's "date" after JJ and Will's wedding. So there it was, the idea I had been putting off for forever. I now had a reason to indulge in the endeavor - and I hope you will be able to say I did a decent job. As always, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

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She didn't know why she had phrased it the way she had. Besides, she knew it meant nothing – he had Beth, after all –, but it was as if she couldn't contain herself. And thus, the three words were spoken the way they were.

_"It's a date."_

She watched his demeanor carefully, with a profiler's eye. He didn't flinch. He didn't act surprised, nor did he seem caught off-guard or put-off. Instead, he simply smiled and nodded his head.

She remembered the dance they had shared. For a moment, she had been able to pretend that _this_ was how her future – their future – was destined to play out. The way they had moved together made it seem as if they were meant to be. It felt right. And when Hotch drew her close, whispered in her ear that she looked beautiful, and flashed those adorable dimples…she had just about melted.

But it ended quicker than it began, and Emily found herself running away at midnight like Cinderella at her ill-fated ball. She was running away from her past; she was running away from her future. Which is how she found herself seated in a patch of sunlight by the window of the nearby Starbucks, her coffee wedged between her clenched fists as she tried so adamantly to pretend he wasn't there with her, watching her, profiling her. Reading her like the open book she always was around him.

He knew the smell of espresso would eventually and permanently seep into his suit, into his skin, but Hotch couldn't care less. He couldn't; not when his gaze was burning into the top of Emily's head as she sat hunched forward, her eyes downcast. He had an inkling as to what she was hiding from him, and he really didn't want to pry...but they had made a promise to talk things over when the going got rough, and he had never seen Emily looked as frazzled as she did now. It hurt a part of him deep inside. Hadn't she had more than enough pain to deal with as of late? The world was cruel, but he was determined to help her walk through it at whatever pace she needed.

And if Beth got even the slightest bit suspicious as to the nature of their relationship, Hotch was certain he didn't know how he'd react. He, too, had had enough to deal with, enough to worry about. Her 'over-protective' concerns were not his priority. He liked her, maybe even a lot, but their relationship would never be as complex as the respective friendships he had with anyone on his team. It was harsh; but it was true. Such was life.

He swallowed thickly, unsure of how to even broach the subject. He had welcomed the idea of inviting her out for coffee and cathartic conversation, but now...he didn't know how to go about having just that. When he glanced away from his own coffee mug and back at her, his heart skipped a beat as he noticed the scared look in her dark eyes as she peered at him through long lashes.

It was all he needed to see to know his assumptions were unfortunately correct. "You're leaving the Bureau for good, aren't you?"

Emily's face contorted into a grimace that was gone with a blink of an eye; but he caught it, and it wrenched his heart to pieces. "How'd you figure it out?" she asked, almost as if she didn't want to know. Her voice was flat, breathy in a way that proved just how exhausted she was. _How'd you figure _me_ out? _she asked internally, her lips stretched into a straight line.

"It was a guess," he confessed, "and you just confirmed it." Suddenly, it was as if the lines in his face became more prominent. "I can't force you to stay with us, Prentiss...Emily. All I can tell you is that...you've been such a valuable agent." This time, it was he who ducked his head. "And friend."

She bit her lip hard in denial that they were actually having this conversation. "Hotch –"

"I can beg, can't I?" the man asked softly, putting his coffee aside for the time being. It would get cold, he was sure of it, but four dollars was nothing compared to the time he was spending with one of the most fascinating women he had ever met. He had just barely been getting to know her better.

And now she was leaving.

"While you were in hiding, it became abundantly clear that you were the glue to hold us together. Your skills were not only necessary but extraordinary, and your spirit..." Now that Hotch had begun, he couldn't bring himself to stop. "You're fiery and fierce and stubborn but it works and you get things done. You've proven yourself too many times to count. You've given yourself to this job a thousand times over; I just wish it would have done the same to you." She shook her head, but he reached out for her hand and forced her gaze back to his. "I know what you're going through, Emily."

"I know you do," Emily finally said, breaking her pact of silence. Even despite the years that have passed, Foyet is still fresh on their minds, eclipsed only by Doyle – and even then, it's so similar but not at all the same. "So then you know how I feel. You know that the BAU had been my dream, and then became my life. It made me feel safe; the team did." _You did._ "But then the Doyle ordeal happened all over again, and I realized I didn't know how to function without that same security I had taken for granted for five, six years. I didn't want to pretend anymore.

"It made me feel so grateful to have everyone welcome me back with open arms again, when everything was over, but it wasn't the same. There was a sense of trust that was lost, even if no one had the urge to admit it; and that's a risk that just couldn't be taken when out in the field. I stopped feeling like _me_. I stopped feeling safe, or at home." She gave Hotch's hand a tiny squeeze, then pulled away. "I need to find myself again."

Hotch was shocked at how suddenly bereft he felt without that physical connection; even if it had only been the casual touching and linking together of fingers. "And I respect that," he found himself saying, even if the words brought a crippling pressure to his chest. He didn't want to let her go, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

He just didn't know how he was supposed to say goodbye.

"Somehow, I knew you wouldn't protest," Emily whispered, and there was just the slightest coloring of fondness in her tone. She knew the difference; she knew he would fight for her, but this was different. They both knew it.

Hotch opened his mouth to say something in contradiction, but no words came from his lips. Only a single question: "Where are you going?"

"London," she said, and with the look in her eyes, it was almost as if she were already there. Miles and miles and miles away.

Hotch's behavioral shift was immediate. _London? _"I thought..." he gaped, "I didn't know..." Once again, the lines in his forehead became prominent and deep, and he turned into a man beaten by stress and cruel age. "It's so far away," he said pathetically, after almost an hour of silence. "Why London?"

"My former boss, Clyde Easter, recently contacted me. I've been offered a position back at Interpol. It's one that is surprisingly difficult to turn down." A beat passed. "But I suppose it would be possible with the right motivation." She gave no explanation, simply left the statement open to whatever interpretation Hotch cared to place on it. If he decided to do so at all.

"I won't make you stay in the Bureau; you're right, I know how stifling it can be." He mulled over his words before throwing all caution to the wind and leaning forward in earnest. "But tell me what I have to do to keep you in the area. Tell me what people I have to call, what letters of recommendation you want me to write. I'll do it."

"I don't need any of that, Aaron."

"Then tell me what you need." Once again, something niggled at the front of his mind; but how was he supposed to bring that up? How embarrassing would it be if he were wrong? He couldn't even imagine it.

But Emily just shook her head once more. "I can't do that."

"Sure you can."

She pursed her lips in something like a mixture of agitation and affectionate disapproval – if such a thing even existed. "My heart is on my sleeve, Aaron. You know that and you've known it for a while. Out of everyone on the team, we've had the most strenuous relationship, yet you've somehow managed to always be able to read me like an open book. It's infuriating...and intriguing and strange."

He couldn't think anymore; all he could think is that thinking was overrated and so was passively pining for a companionship straight out of a dream that he thought he would never have. Four words met her ears before Hotch could realize that he had spoken. The request in itself was simple enough. There was really no need to read any further into his words than need be. But Emily knew just what he meant, just as she always had. He had crossed the line finally, and made a risk that could very nearly change everything, tipping the balance in either direction. But he had decided that it was worth it.

Emily Prentiss was worth everything.

"Have dinner with me."

She looked at him then with an expression of pure surprise written clear across her beautiful face. Her eyebrows drew together in almost confusion and her lips parted. But she had heard him correctly, and there was really only one answer she could give him.

"But what about Beth?" Suddenly, her ears began to ring. _What about Beth? What if you're making this out to be something it's not? What if it's just dinner and nothing more? He probably thinks you're –_

"She isn't you, Emily." His eyes burned into hers, and Emily's heart skipped a beat at the passion she saw in his practically black gaze. "Beth...I think she wants more and I've always told myself that I haven't given her that because I'm just not ready; but the fact of the matter is, I'm not ready for her and I never will be."

"The fact of the matter is," he repeated, "I've always been ready for _you_." He saw the longing in those doe eyes, and he leaned even closer to whisper something more. "I'll accept any answer you give me, Emily. But I need to let you know, finally…I don't just want a simple dinner. I want – no, I need – to make you feel safe again. I know what you've been through, and at the same time, I can't even imagine the ways you've suffered. It's a testament to your strength, and I want to be able to help you in every way - if you'll let me." A second passed, and he was bowing his head slightly. "I'm getting ahead of myself," he sighed knowingly.

Her answer was so quiet he barely heard it. He wouldn't have if he hadn't been cataloguing every inch of her flawless skin for future reference.

"Yes."

Hotch looked at her, startled. "Emily, wh –"

"No, you're not getting ahead of yourself," she clarified, her voice sweet and practically relieved. "Yes, I'll have dinner with you." _If you'll still have me. _

"I want nothing more," he confessed; and yes, his coffee had gotten cold, but it had taken him a while to remember they were even in a coffee shop at all, or that there were other people in the Starbucks with them. To him, nobody else and nothing else had mattered. This time, it was Emily that placed her hand in his, and they shared a little smile. They'll talk about Beth later; she trusts Hotch to work things out, and she even feels a little bit sorry for the woman because Hotch is an incredible human being and an amazing gentleman, one of the few left.

But Emily couldn't really bring herself to be _too_ sorry. Because Aaron Hotchner gave her just the motivation she needed to stay home. Her Cinderella story had consisted of her running away from herself as the clock struck midnight, but she has now found her Prince Charming.

They'll take it one step at a time, they decide, baby steps and warm tears shed and gentle whisperings of kisses. It's a rocky road, but at the very end is a happily ever after…and it's theirs for the taking.

**THE END.**

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**Author's Note: ****Well? What do you think? I'd love to know! Please drop me a line; your feedback and reviews always make me smile. Thank you in advance! Shellrobo23, everyone, I sure hope you loved it. It took a direction entirely different to the one I had planned in the first place...but I guess I'm okay with that. :) **


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